Tag Archives: Wrinkles

Selfies

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Ok I give up; it has to be an age thing. Young people take pictures of themselves all the time and they look great. The pouty lips, big eyes that look like they just saw a ghost, no neck wrinkles, no grey hair, brilliant white teeth (when they aren’t pouting and they smile) I have been trying for months to get a decent picture of myself to put up as my gravatar and to submit with my article for the magazine.

I have given up.

I came to the shocking realization that maybe that is what I really look like?!? I am actually that old and not the angle of the camera or the lighting??!!.

While helping my brother move last weekend he handed me an envelop full of old photos. Some of me as far back as when I was two but several from my twenties and damn I wish I would have appreciated how pretty I was back then.

I never felt really attractive, I knew I couldn’t be that bad; the guys were certainly interested but I didn’t “feel” beautiful. I don’t think that is that unusual for young women. Young women are always comparing themselves to other women and are so critical of their own body.

My mom always complained that she needed to lose weight, that her ass was too big (all the women on her side of the family have that pear shaped figure) I have it too but I got the height of my dads side so I am a longer pear but still always had a thing about my weight. I knew I had a pretty face; I was always told I had a beautiful smile and was nicknamed “Smiley” by most of my customers, even got jobs because of my smile.
I still get attention but mostly because I’ve been told I have “a great ass”. Lol

A couple of years ago I was loading scrap and a young guy called to his buddy to come over. I was used to be teased by this guy and others in the same complex so knew something was up.

I kept loading, which required some bending over with my back to them. Then I hear, “See what did I tell ya? And ass of a 30 year old right?”

The other guy agreed. I stopped what I was doing and turned to give them shit (in a joking way because I wasn’t offended) then the guy says, “See??? From the front 50 from the back 30.”

Now I was 52 at the time so to be called 50 wasn’t that bad; but I would have preferred to look 30 all over or at the very least split the difference and be 40 all over.

I have found that the last two years have really aged me, a lot. And as much as I tell myself I have earned these wrinkles and I am still in good shape, I don’t like getting older.

In my mind I feel sexy and I remember a day when walking around naked in front of a man didn’t bother me in the least but not so comfortable about the thought of that now. Not that I am getting a whole lot of offers.

I think what gets me the most is the qualifying remark after someone says I am pretty….”for my age”.

I will keep trying to get a decent picture of myself; I never was photogenic. That’s it!! I’m not old looking, I’m just not photogenic!!
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There is life and light after the narcissist, I promise! Hugs Carrie

Heaven on Earth

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth.
One is nearer to God in a garden
Than any place else on earth.

Dorothy Francis Gurney

The above is an exert from a poem by Dorothy Francis Gurney; I used to have a wooden plaque hanging in my garden with that verse on it.

Through the worst times of my life I have found comfort in my garden. When JC and I were at the resort I spent hours tending my garden, crying, praying for answers, praying for strength, praying for my son and my brother, praying to be given one more chance to save my boy, praying for serenity, and sometimes cursing God for giving me too much to handle.

I always came away from my garden feeling calmer, stronger; it was my refuge. It has been for most of my life. When I lived at the lake before I even met JC I would be out there with a flashlight and a glass of wine tending my garden. It seemed the harder the time I was going through the more beautiful my gardens were. Every year I dug up more sod for more flowers. The little English lady that lived across the street and could barely walk made her way across the road slowly with her walker and came up to where I was pulling weeds and she said, ” I want to thank you for your lovely gardens. I look out my window and your gardens take me back to my childhood and the lovely English gardens. You have a loving touch; I’ve watched you. I just wanted you to know you have given this old lady much pleasure with your gardens.” and she shuffled back to her house. I’ll never forget it and of course I cried.

When we were at the resort I couldn’t afford plants but all the neighbour brought over plants and bulbs as they thinned out their gardens, one brought over a filing box with tons of different seeds for me to pick from. It was a tough year emotionally, like I said, I did alot of praying. It was the most beautiful garden I’ve ever had.

Gardening is so community minded, it brings people together, gives them something to talk about. A person can be talking by and feel free to say, “Your garden is lovely”. Or gardeners are always so willing to share plants, advice, and ask questions. Somehow a garden removes fences, class distinction, age, and even gender, gardeners are all on the same team.

I missed my gardens this year, I planted gardens last year and got compliments but I didn’t take the time to enjoy them because I was on borrowed time there and was trying to work as much as possible. This year I did plant some, but lack of water took its toll.

I pray that someday I have a tiny place, nothing fancy, I’m easy to please. 400 sq ft would do me just fine, with a fireplace (there is nothing like coming home from a long walk on a brisk fall day and the house is toasty warm from a crackling fire) There are few things more rewarding than getting up in the morning to a cold house and finding a few red embers still in the wood stove because all that’s necessary is to pull ghetto damper and throw on a few dry pieces of wood and in minutes the house is warm again.
I want a kitchen big enough that I can cook a pot of soup or chilli or maybe a pot roast and have a few friends over to share my fire and a bottle of wine.Ā  lots of windows to let the sun shine in and hang crystals in. And a covered porch to hang wind chimes and a wooden rocking chair so I can sit out there even when it rains. One wall of book shelves for all those books I keep moving with me and some day want to read, but they look good until then. šŸ™‚ I love books.

A place I can paint. A freezer I can fill with baking at Christmas and maybe even some cabbage rolls and tourtierre. A bath tub I can fill with bubble bath and keep adding hot water to until I am pink and wrinkly.

And a tiny yard trimmed with gardens.

And never have to move; just grow old there, Grandma’s house. Where my son and grand daughter can come to visit and know there are cookies in the cookie jar and my son will go to the freezer and grab some frozen cookies and I can give him shit for eating them before Christmas.

That is what I pray for. Not much, nothing fancy; not a knight in shining armor to save me, no trips around the world. Just a little bit of heaven on earth. The sun for pardon, the bbirds song for mirth.

What for you pray for?

Some Times You Think You Need a Man

A couple of nights ago I let Kato out for a pee while I brought in the laundry and groceries. He’sĀ  been really good about not buggering off and coming when he is called; he laid in the sun in the driveway all morning and never moved. I was getting the laundry off the drying rack when something went flying past me in the tall grass in the field next door.

It was pitch black outside but I knew it had to be Kato and he was chasing something. I called him but all I could hear was thrashing in the grass and then I could hear something in the throes of death screaming and thrashing around.

It kind of sounded like a cat but there wasn’t any hissing like cats do and I am sure a cat would have put up a bigger fight. I couldn’t stand listening to it and Laila was getting all excited so I took her in the trailer, I could still hear it crying so I closed the door and eventually held my hands over my ears trying to block the screams. I am sure the neighbours heard it, living so far out in the country there are no sounds at night except for frogs and occassionally coyotes, so screams of something being killed must stand out.

I don’t own a flashlight or I would have gone looking for Kato; there was just a sliver of a moon and you couldn’t see two feet in front of yourself.

I don’t have a gun to put something out of it’s misery so I thought I should just let Kato finish the job. And I didn’t want to call him too loudly because that would make it pretty obvious who the killer was.

Then it got really quiet out there for an hour or more and Kato didn’t come back. I didn’t know what to do. (this is the part when I really thought I needed a man; I don’t know why I think a man can handle blood and guts better than a woman)

I didn’t know if Kato was hurt, I called him and there wasn’t a sound, not even grass rustling. I was sick about him killing whatever he killed and worried about him at the same time. It might have been a raccoon and they carry rabies, I’ve never seen raccoons around here though.

Then I heard his bark!!! I opened the door and called him afraid of what he might look like. I was afraid he’d be covered in gore but he looked just like normal.

He was raised with a cat in the house and they slept together I can’t see him killing a cat. Then today I was talking to someone and they said it was probably a possum.I can handle an ugly old possum getting killed better than a cat, bunny or chicken. And I actually saw one scurry across the road just n hour ago. I mean I am sorry the possum died a horrible death but I’m used to seeing dead with their guts all over the road.Ā 

So I made it through another crisis withoutĀ  man but I can see why people start to look like their pets, I’m getting stress wrinkles from my dogs, before long I’ll look just like a Shar-pei.

By the way; I know men aren’t just on this earth to killĀ  spiders and deal with dead things, they are good for changing tires and mowing the grass also!!

KIDDING!!! come on have a sense of haha šŸ˜‰

UPDATE: KILLER SHAR – PEI REDEEMS HIMSELF!!!

We came home last night and as soon as Kato was in the fenced off area around the trailer he bolted to the steps of the trailer. Of course Laila was hot on his ass. I thought they must be thirsty and hurried to open the door but stopped dead in my tracks when kato turned to me with something in his mouth.Ā  Right away I assumed mouse but as he got closer I could tell it was a barn swallow. I said, “Kato drop it! Its a bird drop it!!” and much to my surprise he did, and he didn’t drop it either; he very gently pushed it but of his mouth onto the ground with his tongue and made sure to place it on the ground and not justĀ  “drop” it.

I thought it was dead becauseĀ  it didn’t move, Laila stood back and watched from a distance, totally out of character for her; she always wants in like a dirty shirt. When she followed me out of the trailer she walked way around the little dead bird. Kato laid down a few feet away from it and didn’t even try to get it again, he just laid there watching it. I got a shovel to scoop it up with and bury it so the dogs wouldn’t eat it but when I got close I could see it was still breathing.

The barn swallows were there when we moved in and I hadĀ  noticed the last couple of days they were doing alot of swooping under the leanto where the trailer is and I assumed they were teaching the babies to fly. This little guy must have failed flying 101.

Then I remembered back in LadnerĀ  when James’s son was with us Kato hadĀ  brought Allan and I a baby crow who had failed his flying lesson. And years prior to that my Border CollieĀ  hadĀ  brought me an i.injured bird.

Hmmm could it be he was bringing me the sick bird?

Mom and dad swallow were frantically dive bombing us and making an awful rukus. I know you aren’t supposed to touch the sick bird because then the mother won’t accept it back so I put a clean rag in a basket, gloves on and
carefully placed the baby bird in the basket and put the basket on the roof of the trailer.

IĀ  checked tonight and the little guy is out of my basket and peering over the edge of the trailer . Mom and dad are chirping upĀ  a storm and swooping down from the roof of the trailer.
I feel sorry for the little guy; he’s probably scared to death. I mean after all yesterday when he tried he crash landed and then some THING!!! with a HUGE mouth got dog sober all over him and the dirt stuck to the dog sober and he couldn’t even move he weighed so much from the dirt, slobber and gravel. I sure wouldn’t be jumping at the chance to do that again either.

But I thinkĀ  Kato redeemed himself, he saved a swallow i think d change for killing a possum; more than a fair trade. Aren’t animals amazing??